


Welcome to the Dark Side

by glassclosetcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Charlie Lives, Coming Out, Dean in Denial, Dean is Not Heterosexual, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s11e08 Just my Imagination Coda, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, It's Sam and a dude but it's really about Dean and his repression, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Gay Panic, Nonchalant coming-out, Sam is also not heterosexual, Sammy finally gets some, because, bro feels, everyone is queer and nothing hurts, pre-destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassclosetcastiel/pseuds/glassclosetcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie sighs. <i>”Dean, Sam likes girls. But clearly, he also likes guys. I know that’s surprising to you if he’s never mentioned it, but it’s not a big deal. There’s more than just gay and straight. Sexuality is a spectrum.”</i></p><p>Dean shuts his eyes again and massages his eyebrows. “Yeah, I get that, but. He couldn’t’ve said something about it before?”</p><p><i>”Dean,”</i> Charlie says. <i>”Can you honestly imagine having that talk with your brother? I can picture it now, right in-between taking down a pack of werewolves and washing the blood off your knives. ‘Oh, by the way, Dean, I like dudes too, hope that’s cool.’”</i></p><p>--</p><p>Or, in which Sam has a Gay Thing and Dean has a Gay Crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Dark Side

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about this and had to get it out. It could be considered a sort of canon-compliant post 11x08 coda, but Charlie lives because reasons.
> 
> Yes, the only relationship in the story is Sam/OMC, but it is brief and not the main focus, so if you've come here for a Sam fic, I'm sorry to disappoint. This is really about Dean coming to terms with his bi-ness.
> 
> Also, I just wanted to use a semi-non-fictional story about a scar.
> 
> Also also, I needed an excuse for a terrible Star Wars pun.
> 
> Unbeta'd because it's midnight. I'll fix any and all typos later.
> 
> Enjoy!

They’re in Tulsa at some shitty dive. It’s nearly eleven. They’ve been sitting at the same high-top table for over three hours, both on one side, backs to the wall, trying to look available. It’s not working. Dean’s caught the eye of a couple girls, but they’ve all smiled and looked away or else turned without a second glance. Not what he’s looking for.

“I gotta piss,” Dean says. “Eyes on your beer.”

Sam sighs. It’s the third time Dean’s said it in as many hours. “Just pee already.”

When Dean gets back, wiping his hands on his jeans, he asks if Sam’s seen anything.

“Nothing, still. No suspicious couples, no overly eager women. Nothing that would suggest a siren.”

“Maybe she’s already out,” Dean says. He pauses with his beer halfway to his mouth, raising an eyebrow.

Sam makes a face. “Obviously I watched your beer,” he says.

Dean shrugs and sips. “I dunno, man. All the vics came out of this place on a Saturday night. How come she’s a no-show tonight?”

Sam hums in thought. “You could be right? Maybe she got lucky early on, took a guy home without making a scene?”

Dean catches sight of a lone man sitting at a booth across the room. The guy looks down and away, then back in their direction and away again.

“Two-o’clock,” Dean says around the mouth of his beer.

Sam looks up quickly and goes back to scanning the room. “What?”

Again, Dean notices the man looking their way. “Dude at the booth alone,” he says. “White shirt, brown hair.”

Sam looks again. “Okay? I see him. Kinda scruffy, in a business casual way.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, well. He keeps looking at us.”

Sam checks again and catches the guy’s eye. They both look away quickly.

“Okay? So?”

“So, kinda weird, don’t you think?” Dean asks.

“Well, we’re the tallest people in here, we’re probably hard to miss,” Sam says.

Dean scoffs, but he lets it go and leans back in his seat, stretching. “Whad’ya think, another half hour, then we call it a night?”

Sam’s distracted—eyes scanning the room but always coming back to the business casual guy in the booth.

“Sam.”

Sam’s eyes snap back to Dean’s. “Hmm?”

Dean narrows his eyes and reaches for Sam’s beer. He ignores Sam’s scowl as he sniffs the rim and peeks inside, sloshing the liquid around.

“You sure you kept an eye on this?”

Sam sighs again. “Yes! I’m fine. Let’s just hang out for a little bit longer, then we can go.”

They both look up as someone approaches the table, hesitating a few feet away. It’s the guy from the booth. He stops at Sam’s side of the high-top and runs a hand over his pant leg. Dean narrows his eyes at him.

The guy is smallish—maybe half a foot shorter than them or more—but built well, like maybe he runs. His suit is clean and well-tailored, and he has his sleeves rolled up in neat cuffs to his elbows. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says, “but I knew I’d kick myself later if I didn’t at least introduce myself.” He addresses this last part to Sam.

“Something we can help you with?” Dean asks, tensed and ready to fight. He’s reaching for his gun before he knows it, hand at the small of his back where his pearl-handled revolver sits tucked into his pants.

Sam clears his throat. Dean frowns, but lowers his hand.

The guy comes a little closer and stops right next to Sam, sticking out a hand. “I’m Alexander.”

“Sam,” Sam says with a small smile, and shakes. Dean nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Alexander asks, charming grin in place.

Sam laughs and looks down at the table, but Dean is on his feet instantly. “Alright, what the hell are you?” he asks in a harsh whisper, just loud enough for the man to hear. “Siren? Incubus?”

“Dean,” Sam says. Dean holds up a hand to silence him.

The guy stares. “You’re hunters?” he says.

Dean starts to reach for his gun but pauses when he notices the way the guy said it, with a little smile and a hint of amusement. “Um,” he says.

“Yes,” Sam finishes for him. “Are you…?”

Alexander shakes his head and sets his beer on their table. He rests an arm there and leans on it. “No, no. Actually, I’m undercover. Working the same case as you, I’m guessing.”

Dean visibly relaxes. “You a fed?”

“Yessir,” Alexander says, tipping a fake hat. 

Sam laughs. “So how do you know about what’s really doing this?”

“I had a… friend who was a hunter. Is a hunter, still, I imagine,” Alexander says.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “A friend?”

Alexander laughs. “Okay, an ex.”

For some reason, he and Sam share a chuckle. 

Dean narrows his eyes. After a minute, he lets out a silent _ohhh._ “I see what this is,” Dean says. He nods, sure of himself, and wags his finger back and forth between Alexander and Sam. “This happened to me. See, he’s not really your gay thing. He was just scoping you out because you looked suspicious. Easy mistake.”

Sam just stares, and Alexander huffs an awkward little laugh. “Um, actually, no. I really did want to buy Sam a drink.”

Sam grins. “I’d like that.”

Dean has him by the arm in the blink of an eye. “Excuse us,” he says over his shoulder as he drags Sam a few feet away.

“What the hell, Sammy? You said you watched your drink!”

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated groan. “Okay, I’m only gonna say this once. I’m not under the influence of anything. I have all of my faculties. I am choosing to let this guy buy me a drink. I am willingly going to flirt with him. And if things go well, I might even leave with him. For the love of god, don’t be a dick about this, okay? We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Sam says, eyes wide. He pats Dean once on the back. “Don’t wait up.”

Dean watches with his mouth hanging open as Sam and Alexander walk side by side to the bar and lean on it with their elbows, facing each other and smiling. It takes him ten minutes to overcome his intense confusion and leave the bar, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he goes. Sam gives him a sarcastic wave and a raise of his eyebrows, as if to say, _I’m fine, go already._ Dean does.

\--

Dean throws his coat and keys at the chair in the motel room, untucks his gun and sets it on the table. He loosens his belt and removes his phone and wallet from his pocket. Seeing no new messages or calls, he tosses the phone down on the bed and hits the shower.

 _What the fuck,_ his brain asks. _What the ever-loving fuck just happened._ He cuts the shower short and towels dry, standing in place at the mirror with the terrycloth fabric to his face. He breathes out slowly and goes back into the room to change.

His foot taps anxiously as he clicks the phone screen on, _just to check the time._ It’s nearly midnight. He can’t help but notice there’s still no word from Sam. He eyes the mini fridge nestled in-between the two wooden dressers and sighs.

Sitting heavily on the edge of his still-made bed, he clicks his phone screen on and dials Charlie.

 _“Holy shit,”_ she says by way of a greeting. _“Do mine eyes deceive me? Is this really the elusive Dean Winchester calling me at near-to-midnight-o’clock on a Saturday night?”_

Dean laughs. “Hey, Charlie.”

_”What the hell, dude? How have you been? You never call, you never write...”_

“I know, I’m sorry,” Dean says. “I’m… good. We’re good. How are you?”

_”Ooh, I heard that hesitation. What’s up?”_

Dean sighs and lays back against the pillows. He throws his left arm over his eyes. “Nothing really. I just, uh. I kinda. I’m not really sure why I called.”

Charlie’s voice is full of concern. _”Dean, are you okay? Where’s Sam? Is everything alright?”_

Dean huffs a laugh and runs his hand down his face. “Everything’s fine. Sam’s… out. We were staking out this bar and he uh. Stayed behind. With someone.”

 _”Score one for Sammy,”_ Charlie says.

Dean doesn’t laugh. “It was a dude.”

Charlie only hesitates a moment. _”Whoa. I did not see that coming. But good for him! That’s actually awesome. Queers abound. So what’s the big deal?”_

“What’s the big deal?” Dean asks, incredulous. “Um, Sam just went home with a dude? That’s the deal?”

_”Okay, so—”_

“So,” Dean cuts in, “how ‘bout he’s into women? And he just said it all nonchalant, like yeah, _obviously_ I’m gonna let this dude buy me a drink, no big deal. Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?”

Charlie sighs. _”Dean, Sam likes girls. But clearly, he also likes guys. I know that’s surprising to you if he’s never mentioned it, but it’s not a big deal. There’s more than just gay and straight. Sexuality is a spectrum.”_

Dean shuts his eyes again and massages his eyebrows. “Yeah, I get that, but. He couldn’t’ve said something about it before?”

 _”Dean,”_ Charlie says. _”Can you honestly imagine having that talk with your brother? I can picture it now, right in-between taking down a pack of werewolves and washing the blood off your knives. ‘Oh, by the way, Dean, I like dudes too, hope that’s cool.’”_

“Okay, point.”

Charlie hesitates again. _”You want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”_

Dean doesn’t answer at first, but Charlie waits patiently for him to speak.

“He just. He was so blasé about it,” Dean says. “Like it was nothing. ‘Yep, I’m into this dude, g’night.’ Like it was no big deal.”

 _”Well, Dean,”_ Charlie begins, gently, _”It is no big deal. I mean. Did you care when you found out I was gay?”_

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course not. But it’s… different. With girls.”

_”You’re right, it is different. Guys have a lot harder time out in the world when they’re attracted to men. But you know Sam. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. I mean, you guys have literally been to hell. I think you can both handle a couple homophobes if need be.”_

Dean doesn’t miss how she refers to both he and Sam. “Both, huh?” He swallows.

 _”Yep,”_ Charlie says, aiming to sound casual, but Dean thinks he knows what she means.

He clears his throat and puts his arm back over his eyes, blocking out all the light. “It was just so… easy for him. I mean. Shouldn’t it be harder than that? He made it look so easy.”

Charlie makes a pained noise through the phone. _”For some people, it’s just like that. They just come to terms with it and it’s not that hard for them to come out. For other people, like me, it takes a while. They have to do a lot of soul-searching before they can come to terms with it. And then, for some people—”_

She pauses again. Dean feels his heart hammer in his throat.

_”For some people, it never gets easier. They just… push it down, pretend it’s not there. Like it’s this ugly thing marring their soul, or something. But… let me tell you something.”_

Charlie’s voice takes on a different sound—hard and determined, but soothing. _”In college, I got into this scooter accident. Don’t laugh. It was serious. Anyway, let’s just say I left part of my knee on the pavement. So for a long time, I had this big ugly red scar all down my thigh and over my knee. I thought it was so gross, I never looked at it. I always wore long pants._

_“But then I started dating this girl Annie. She was big into holistic stuff, alternative medicine, chakras, that kind of thing. Anyway, she used to like to, like, kiss it and stuff. And it made me so uncomfortable._

_”So one day, I was like, ‘hey, could you not touch that? I don’t like it, it’s ugly.’ And you know what she said to me?”_

Dean humors her. “What?”

_”She said, ‘this is not some thing that’s marring your skin. This scar is a part of you, now. You are beautiful, so it’s beautiful, too.”_

Dean scoffs, but smiles.

_”I know, I know. Sounds like hippy BS. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. And my sexuality is like that. It’s not something that’s attached to my brain and leaching the good out. It isn’t some mark that’s fucking up the rest of me. It’s a part of me, just like my red hair and my stubby toes and my tone-deafness.”_

Dean hears her smile through the phone. He can feel a burning at the back of his throat. He swallows. All he can manage is a weak, “yeah?”

 _”Yeah,”_ Charlie says. _”Your sexuality is just you. It doesn’t make you good or bad. It doesn’t make you a different person to acknowledge that part of yourself, because it’s always been there and it’s always gonna be. Embracing it will only make you feel better. And I mean_ you _in the general sense, of course,”_ she adds, giving Dean an out.

Dean clears his throat again. “Okay.”

 _”Yep,”_ she says. _”And if you ever need to talk, about, you know. Anything else. I’m here.”_

“I’ll—” Dean says. “I might take you up on that.”

 _”I love you, Dean. Call me sometimes to let me know you’re alive, okay? Oh—and when Sam gets back, tell him_ welcome to the dark side _for me.”_

“Really?”

Charlie laughs. _”Excuse me for being excited about_ The Force Awakens.”

“Thanks, Charles,” Dean says.

When they hang up, Dean lays awake for a long time, thoughts swirling like a whirlpool. When he sleeps, it’s to fitful and dizzying dreams.

\--

Dean wakes to the sound of a door closing. He shoots up in bed, gun in hand, and it takes him longer than usual to remember that he’s not in the bunker.

Sam’s dressed in his clothes from the night before. He sets a paper bag and two coffees down on the table before settling onto the chair to unlace his boots. “Morning,” he says without looking at Dean.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says. He replaces his gun under his pillow and rubs his eyes.

“I brought breakfast,” Sam remarks, turning to the food and the coffees. He waits for Dean to sit up before pulling a wrapped biscuit out of the bag and handing it and one of the cups to him.

“Thanks,” Dean says.

They sit on opposite beds, chewing and sipping in silence. After a moment, Sam sighs and sets his cup on the ground.

“Look,” he begins. “About last night.”

Dean sets his biscuit wrapper aside and holds out a hand. “No, let me… That’s not how I wanted things to go. I didn’t mean to be a dick, okay? You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Sam nods.

“I just didn’t know you… you know?” Dean flounders. “You always liked girls.”

Sam snorts. “I still like girls, Dean. There’s more than just gay and straight. There’s a whole—”

“Don’t tell me,” Dean cuts him off. “It’s a spectrum, right? Charlie said the same thing.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sexuality is a spectrum. You called Charlie?”

Dean frowns. “What, like that’s weird? She’s our resident gay expert. Yeah, I called her.”

Sam huffs a surprised laugh. “Okay then.”

“So what’re you, then, bi or something?” Dean asks, not unkindly.

“Or something,” Sam says.

Dean takes a deep breath and nods. “You, uh. How long have you known?”

Sam pauses to think. “Maybe always? I dunno. You remember that kid Danny Alman?”

Dean racks his brain, reaching back twenty-five years. “Uh, yeah, I think? Blonde kid, real skinny?”

“Yeah,” Sam laughs. “He was my first crush. Sully actually helped me through that when I didn’t think I could talk to you or dad about it.”

“Shit,” Dean sighs. “Remind me to thank him again someday.”

They share a smile, but after a moment, Sam gets that look on his face that means _feelings_ are coming.

“So, you’re cool? We’re cool, I mean?”

Dean frowns. “Sammy, of course we’re good. You’re my brother and I love you. What, you think I’d wave off the demon blood but disown you for being gay? Bi? Pan...sexual? Whatever?”

Sam laughs, and a bit of the tension breaks. “I had a boyfriend in college. To tell you the truth, I would have rather faced down a demon than tell you or Dad about that.”

Sam meant it as a joke, but Dean still winces. He falters and rubs the back of his neck. “No, I uh. I got no problem with it. To tell you the truth…”

He trails off again, and he thinks of Charlie, of how he’s about to be 37 years old and has been running for his life for as long as he can remember. He thinks about how maybe he doesn’t have to run from this anymore.

“To tell you the truth, I was kind of more upset that it was so easy for you.” 

Dean keeps his eyes down. For a while, Sam doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah?” Sam asks, eventually.

Dean huffs an awkward laugh. “Yeah. You just made it look so easy. It’s, uh. It’s not that easy. For me.”

Fortunately, Sam seems to grasp what Dean’s saying without actually saying it. His puppy-dog look intensifies.

“It’s not easy,” Sam says. “I mean, it wasn’t. But at least I had someone to talk to about it. You—” he trails off, looking pained. “You must have—Dad must have… _fuck._ ”

Sam breathes heavily in and out. “Coming out is tough. But it feels _so good,_ man. It’s like this huge weight off of your chest. And I—I know it’s not… I know you don’t like to talk about feelings and stuff. But,” Sam says, holding out a hand in a calming way, like he’s trying to sooth a spooked horse. “I’m here to talk. If you need to. About anything. At any time.”

“Alright, I get it,” Dean says.

Sam smiles that tight-lipped nervous smile that makes Dean sad, so he lets out a breath and says, “thanks, Sammy.”

\--

They spend the rest of their morning talking about the case as if nothing’s changed. And in a way, maybe it hasn’t.

Dean thinks of Cas. And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay, too.

**Author's Note:**

> That was pointless but cute. Let's be friends. I'm on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com/) and twitter (@glassclosetcas).


End file.
